You get a second chance in Heaven
by BohemianTwinkle
Summary: based on a thing i did in class, Christian and Satine get a second chance basically! hope you enjoy it. r/r
1. Default Chapter

He'd promised to go on and write their story, he'd promised to live on to show the world his wonderful talent through their story. He'd promised her and he'd kept his promise.  
  
He sat at his desk with his well-worked typewriter sitting in front of him with a huge tall stack of papers next to it - it was their story titled 'A love that will live forever'. He had finished it; he had poured his soul into it, all the feelings of truth, beauty, freedom but above all things love, jealousy, anger, hate, passion, ecstasy, grief and despair, he'd relived it all for her so that she would live forever, he'd kept his promise and now he was finished. It was the story of the Bohemian Revolution as well as the story of their love.  
  
Yes, he had finished it and was now tired, exhausted in fact sick of life; sick of living a pointless existence in his shambled messed up dull and dark garret. All that was left of his spirit had been buried into the pages, buried so that he too will live forever. He was nothing now, everything in him had gone and now he wanted to sleep, wanted to leave this place, he wanted to follow her into the realm of forever sleep so they could be together for eternity. He'd grieved for a whole year, fulfilled his promise and now it was time to join her.  
  
He would be with her soon, yes, reunited with his love soon all he had to do was close his eyes and let his finger that was on the trigger seal his fate - it was that simple. But something was missing; there was something he had to do before he entered his slumber, something to make sure they would live on forever.  
  
He moved to stand for the last time and picked up the huge heavy wad of papers bound together by the ribbon of a can can dress and climbed up the ladder into Toulouse's apartment and placed it on the desk next to Toulouse's canvas and crept back down the ladder past the unmoving Toulouse who had fallen asleep from Absinthe again.  
  
Now he was ready, ready to leave and fly away to her, he sat back down in his chair in front of his typewriter - a fitting way for a poet to die - at his workbench, his typewriter where all his poetry came to life. He picked up the gun again and held it to his temple right next to his eye with no intention of backing out now he was not afraid; he closed his eyes and pressed down on the trigger..  
  
He awoke again seconds later he'd felt nothing, it was like he was awaking from an afternoon nap. He'd experienced no pain, not even the slightest sharpness of impact or pang as the bullet entered his head and he began to wonder if he had actually killed himself. He was still in his garret, although it was different there were no discarded empty or half full bottles of Absinthe laying cluttered or smashed around the floor or in the corners, there were no papers stuck on the walls some torn others tattered, the smell of sweat, alcohol and tears no longer coated the air.  
  
A shower of sunlight shone through the open window, lighting up the room enormously along with a cool summer breeze that ruffled his hair. His garret was clean and tidy with his typewriter sitting polished on his smooth wooden desk without a trace of dust. He stood up from where he was sitting at his desk and looked around, he thought he was dead but he wasn't sure. His hand moved up to his chin and he found that the coarse beard that once adorned it had gone and his face was now clean-shaven like it was once before, he was wearing a clean handsome shirt and black trousers with suspenders - not what he'd been wearing before. He went out onto his balcony and looked over the city, it looked the same only, only a golden light seemed to glow over the whole place, the streets weren't thick with disease ridden prostitutes or thugs willing to kill for something of value, instead strolling the streets were well dressed ladies and men dancing, falling in love, some even singing.  
  
He was staring in awe and confusion down at the city below when there was a knock at his door. He walked across his strangely clean garret and pulled open the door to find.. Toulouse?  
  
Author thing: that's it for now, I've got you on a cliffhanger sort of. But I'll post the next and final bit ASAP. Please review as it keeps me alive oh and I have an idea of how I'm going to end this but if anyone wants to contribute please do! (. I don't own Moulin Rouge - if I did I would be the happiest kid alive. 


	2. Somewhat Dead?

"Christian! I thought you might be here!" Toulouse greeted Christian cheerfully as he hobbled through the door.  
  
"Toulouse? What are you doing here?" Christian asked in bewilderment, spinning around to follow the dwarf as he shuffled into the apartment. "That's just the question I was going to ask you!" Toulouse replied just as cheerfully looking over his shoulder to give Christian a twinkling glance.  
  
"Wh.What do you mean?" Christian asked, shutting the door and shaking his head "I don't understand"  
  
"Christian, it's not very hard to understand" Toulouse explained sitting himself down in Christian's old armchair that looked clean and new from when he'd last seen it. "What are you doing here?" Toulouse said simply repeating the question.  
  
"Here?" Christian repeated squinting as he tried to think, "What do you mean here? What is here exactly? I.I mean I don't know where I am, I cant remember what happened" he said in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair and paced across the room in front of Toulouse.  
  
"Ah," Toulouse said knowingly shaking a finger at Christian. "You're confused, it happens, it happened to me, happens to all those who have too much Absinthe" he said nodding solemnly.  
  
"What?" Christian exclaimed falling into even more confusion "Absinthe? What has Absinthe got to do with anything? I haven't drunk any for 3 days! What are you talking about Toulouse?" he said in a fluster.  
  
"You mean you didn't drink any Absinthe?" Toulouse said carefully. "No!" Christian exclaimed desperately. "Then how did you get here?" Toulouse asked now not understanding either. "What cant you remember?" he asked  
  
"Can't remember" Christian repeated as he pondered for words "Can't remember if I shot myself or not! I mean, I was sitting there at my typewriter" he went on, walking over to his typewriter chair "And I had my gun, pointed here" he went on holding his fingers in a shape of a gun to his temple "And I can't remember, I can't remember if I shot or not, it all went black, I mean, I remember pushing the trigger but I didn't hear anything it just went black then I woke up here, and I don't know if I'm dead or not but I cant be dead because you're here and you're not dead! But everything is different and I don't have a beard anymore and I'm wearing different clothes!" he squealed in frustration of what he didn't understand. "Toulouse would you mind telling me if I'm dead or not?" he sighed long and loud.  
  
"You're almost dead" Toulouse said simply.  
  
"Huh?" Christian replied "How can I be almost dead? And if I'm somewhat dead why are you here?" he replied sighing again. "I'll let you figure that out for yourself" Toulouse replied a little sarcastically.  
  
Christian looked at him carefully for a moment as he thought. He could remember back to when he climbed the ladder from his garret into Toulouse's with his story and suicide note, he remembered how he'd barely noticed at the time that Toulouse had never flinched while he'd been there and the little man's face looked ghostly pale, he remembered that he couldn't hear the hoarse breathing of Toulouse as he 'slept' and then he realized. He wondered why he didn't pay any attention to it before but he supposed he was too caught up in what he was about to do to care.  
  
"You're almost dead like me," Christian whispered after a minute or two. "You were dead when I went into your garret to leave you our story, you put yourself to death by finally drinking a fatal amount of Absinthe" Christian said, his voice wavering just above a whisper "And now no one will be there to receive the story!" Christian said, his voice flaring into an annoyed anger.  
  
"Calm down Christian" Toulouse replied coolly "The other Boho's will find it" he assured him "What you need to worry about is what lies ahead of you" Toulouse explained to him in a serious tone, looking straight into his eyes.  
  
"And what's that?" Christian replied warily.  
  
*** Ok, so this wasn't the final chapter! What can I say? I got another idea! Hope you're all enjoying it please review and give me all your thoughts and feelings etc! Cheers, Twinkle *** 


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